


With the memories of you being beautiful

by chajatta



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chajatta/pseuds/chajatta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even as a trainee Jongin's talent was clear for everyone to see, burning bright and blinding like a flame behind his eyes. </p>
<p>Joonmyun was smitten from the start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With the memories of you being beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> When EXO first debuted, there were a lot of rumours floating around that the reason Jongin often seemed to avoid Joonmyun and push him away was because they didn't get on. This was my take on the situation. 
> 
> Originally published 13/08/2012

Joonmyun knows better than most what it takes to reach the top. 

His outward façade is genial, and he takes the calls of grandpa with a smile, but seven years have jaded him. He has seen friends debut, friends held back, crushed. He has been on the brink of success, only to be told _‘sorry, you’re not ready, maybe next time.’_ He has wondered whether there would ever be a next time. 

To have finally debuted means the world to Joonmyun, more than he could ever put into words. To know that the sweat and the blood and the years of thankless work have been worth it is a heady feeling.

Joonmyun would not give it up for anything. 

 

 

He meets Jongin when they’re both trainees, and his first thought is a resounding _‘this kid will make it’._ He doubts anyone ever said that about him. 

Jongin is strong, talented and fiercely determined. _‘Performing is my lifeblood,’_ he’d told Joonmyun once, when Joonmyun had asked him why he’d joined SM. Joonmyun doesn’t doubt that. It’s trite and cliché, but Jongin was born to be a star and Joonmyun can see it in the way he speaks and the way he moves and the very way that he breathes. 

Everything about Jongin is dazzling. 

He’s infatuated from the start. 

 

 

It’s months before they have dance practice together. 

Jongin had told him, not long after they first met, that he used to do ballet, had talked and talked until his voice had gone hoarse. The other trainees whisper enviously behind their hands as Jongin passes them in the corridor. But none of that can prepare Joonmyun for what he sees in the studio.

It is not uncommon for Joonmyun to fall over his own feet (their instructor barely even notices, anymore), but when Jongin dances Joonmyun’s body grinds to a complete halt.

Jongin comes alive under the bright lights on the ceiling. The lines of his body are soft and graceful and seemingly effortless, and it feels to Joonmyun as though Jongin is dancing solely for him. He watches, dumbstruck, as Jongin pauses and swipes sweat matted hair away from his eyes. 

Joonmyun isn’t the only one that stops what he’s doing to watch and before long the instructor is raising his voice above the music to scold them. The trainees quickly rearrange themselves back into their uniform lines. 

Joonmyun and Jongin lock eyes and Joonmyun is certain that the sly quirk of Jongin’s lips can only mean one thing. 

Jongin _knows._

 

 

They grow closer and, after weeks of Joonmyun trying to keep his staring to a discrete minimum, they develop a tradition. 

Every Tuesday and Friday, Joonmyun waits at the back of the studio with his duffle bag clutched between his fingers. The instructor keeps Jongin behind and the two of them go over the intricacies of this week’s choreography. He has never done that with Joonmyun. 

The other trainees are used to it, by now. They don’t question the way Jongin glances at Joonmyun over their instructor’s shoulder, just wave their goodbyes to Joonmyun and filter out into the balmy Seoul evening. 

When Jongin’s done they follow the same meandering path to a tiny pizza restaurant, hidden in an untidy sprawl of noraebangs and seven elevens. Unfaltering years of visits have taught the staff Joonmyun’s name and it isn’t long before they know Jongin’s, too (it’s not just Joonmyun that finds him irresistible). 

Somehow, they always scrape together enough money to share a large pizza and coke. Jongin refuses to eat pizza without sweet corn and Joonmyun’s half is always lukewarm by the time he’s picked it all off. 

Jongin will shuck his converse off and run a teasing foot up Joonmyun’s leg, trail his toes over the inside of Joonmyun’s thigh. He says nothing, but Joonmyun’s face heats up, and Jongin smiles smugly at him around a mouthful of melted cheese. 

 

 

They always walk Jongin home the long way, looping around the back of the restaurant so they pass by the river. Even when the seasons change and autumn melts into winter, Jongin just sees it as an excuse to huddle closer. They watch ducks waddle unsteadily across the frozen water, laughter coming in great frozen clouds that bite at their rosy cheeks. Their shoulders knock and Jongin’s numb fingers curl around Joonmyun’s wrist. 

 

 

Danger burns under Jongin’s skin, but Joonmyun cannot stay away. 

Joonmyun steals kisses that taste like risk on Jongin’s doorstep, worrying at Jongin’s mouth until it is red and bruised. Jongin whines and whimpers beneath him, sometimes skating a hand under Joonmyun’s t-shirt to tease at his stomach. 

Sometimes Jongin drags Joonmyun up to his room, pressing cold fingers to Joonmyun’s lips as they climb the stairs through his parents’ house. Then Jongin bites his way down Joonmyun’s neck, murmurs all the dirty things he wants Joonmyun to do to him as he mouths wetly down his stomach and pushes Joonmyun’s jeans down his thighs. 

They shouldn’t, Joonmyun _knows_ they shouldn’t. But Jongin is bold and brash and beautiful, and Joonmyun can’t deny him anything. Not when Jongin pins Joonmyun’s hips to his Pokémon bed sheets, takes Joonmyun’s cock greedily into his mouth and sucks him off until electricity courses through his bones and his nerve endings flare with white light. 

 

 

Everything changes after they debut. 

The taste of stardom is sweet and sticky on their tongues; Jongin is addicted to the nectar of it. 

Joonmyun puts it down to exhaustion, at first. They are shuffled like cattle from music show to radio station to magazine shoot and back again and some days they barely even have time to eat. 

When Jongin falls into an uneasy asleep on Sehun’s shoulder in the back on the van instead of his, Joonmyun tries to think nothing of it. 

But it doesn’t stop there.

 

 

Joonmyun is a tactile person. He will throw a friendly arm around Jongin’s shoulder after a performance, pat him on the thigh during a radio show. It’s nothing. It means nothing. Joonmyun doesn’t even think about the way he automatically seeks Jongin out anymore. 

The Jongin of old would have leant into the touch. Less than a year ago, Jongin would have laughed and returned the favour. But the Jongin of EXO, EXO-K’s _Kai_ , shrugs him off, heedful of the lights and the cameras and the screams of the fans but not, seemingly, of the hurt look on Joonmyun’s face every time he ducks out from under Joonmyun’s arm and cuddles up to Sehun, or Baekhyun, or Kyungsoo, all smiles as they make kissy faces and heart shapes with their arms. 

Jongin keeps his face carefully impassive around Joonmyun, always maintains a perfect, platonic distance. It’s such a turn around from the audacious boy Joonmyun met all those years ago, that sometimes he wonders if they’re even the same person. 

But sometimes his carefully constructed mask will slip. Jongin waits until everyone has gone to bed and a rare silence falls over the dorm. Then he will crawl, naked and flushed, into Joonmyun’s bed, settle between Joonmyun’s thighs and beg Joonmyun to fuck him.

Joonmyun has never been good at saying no to Jongin. 

Joonmyun knows he’s pathetic and he knows it isn’t fair, the way Jongin reels him in at will. But they both know that Joonmyun can never refuse him, will never push Jongin out of his bed. 

They huddle together under the sheets. The sticky press of their bodies reminds Joonmyun of long summer nights spent making love in Jongin’s bedroom. Jongin bites into the pillow as Joonmyun fucks him and it’s all so familiar, so familiar but so _different_ , so _wrong_. Joonmyun presses his damp eyes into the sweaty nape of Jongin’s neck.

Each time Joonmyun tries to make him stay. He holds tightly to Jongin’s waist and presses desperate kisses into Jongin’s shoulder blades, but each time Jongin pulls away. He always reels off the same line, _‘someone might wake up, someone might hear us, I can’t.’_

Joonmyun bites back tears as he watches Jongin leave and swears this will be the last time, swears that things will change. 

The empty threats burn Joonmyun’s tongue. 

It isn’t. They don’t.

 

 

The six of them are given a rare evening off and Kyungsoo insists that they all eat together; real, home cooked food, not the greasy takeout they’ve been surviving on for the last week or so. 

Joonmyun ends up sitting across from Jongin. Their eyes lock briefly but then Jongin’s gaze darts down to his plate and Joonmyun knows immediately that this is going to be a long evening. 

Jongin is so practiced in his ignorance, now, so perfect, that he is able to last the entire meal without once acknowledging Joonmyun’s existence. Joonmyun asks him a question but when Jongin pretends not to hear him over the hustle and bustle of the others filling their faces and instead turns to strike up a conversation with Sehun, Joonmyun drops it and stares angrily down at his plate. 

If anyone notices the vicious way he skewers his chicken, they don’t mention it. 

Joonmyun says nothing further and they don’t interact for the rest of the evening. Joonmyun settles himself at the opposite end of the sofa as they all gather around the TV. 

After a few hours of Chanyeol’s mindless B-list zombie films, the rest of the group retire to their beds. Kyungsoo is the last to go and he pauses in the doorway, casts a questioning look at Joonmyun. Joonmyun just smiles and Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow before reluctantly going on his way. The instant Kyungsoo’s door clicks shut, Joonmyun turns in his seat and stares resolutely at the side of Jongin’s face. “Well?”

“’Well’, what?” Jongin doesn’t even look away from the TV as he speaks and the weak glow on his skin makes him look pale and unwell. Joonmyun clenches his fists. 

“That stunt you pulled at dinner.” Jongin still doesn’t look at him and Joonmyun can feel months of frustration and anger and betrayal bubbling under his skin. “So you’re just not even going to talk to me anymore, then? Nobody’s going to know we’re sleeping together if I ask you for the weather.” Jongin snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘funny’ under his breath.

“That’s the thing though, Jongin. It isn’t funny, and I can’t keep- I can’t-“ Joonmyun can feel his fists starting to shake. “Will you at least look at me when I’m trying to talk to you?” Joonmyun reaches over to grab Jongin’s arm, but he jerks away before Joonmyun can lay a finger on him. 

After a beat of silence, Jongin turns his head. There are dark, heavy rings under his eyes but Joonmyun refuses to let the tugging feeling in his stomach force his mouth shut. There will always be something, some reason to sit back and allow Jongin to push him away. But Joonmyun can no longer stand the way it makes him feel when Jongin’s eyes pass right over him. 

“I understand it on stage. I really do, but you won’t even talk to me in front of the other members?” Jongin’s gaze is trained unwaveringly on Joonmyun’s shoulder. “You won’t even look at me in our own home? Because if that’s the point we’re at then I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s not worth it.”

Joonmyun sees Jongin’s jaw tighten and he slowly, laboriously, drags his eyes up to meet Joonmyun’s. The intensity of his gaze stabs right down into his ribcage and now Joonmyun is the one that wants to look away. “I would’ve thought that you, of all people, would understand what’s at risk.” Jongin’s voice is little more than a whisper, but it echoes venomously through the dorm. “You know we have to be careful. We can’t just- we’re not just trainees anymore, we’re not nobodies. If you’re happy to sacrifice your career for this then fine, but I’ve worked too hard to just throw it away.”

Joonmyun reels and he has to take several deep breaths before he can speak again. “You think I don’t know how hard we’ve all had to work to get here? You think I worked for seven years to just throw it away on some fling? You’re-“ Joonmyun stops himself. Something flashes in Jongin’s eyes, but it’s gone too quickly for Joonmyun to be sure he didn’t imagine it. “You’re paranoid,” he says finally.

Jongin shakes his head. “If anyone ever finds out about us we’re done. Not just us, but our entire careers, fuck, our entire _lives_. If the others, if they-“ Joonmyun looks at Jongin, really looks at him, and he can see that Jongin’s body is trembling under the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Joonmyun aches to comfort him. “If they saw the way I look at you, they’d all know see how much I want you.” His voice shakes. “I have to be paranoid, Joonmyun, because if I’m not people will know and I can’t- I can’t lose this.”

Joonmyun reaches across for Jongin’s hand and his body sags with relief when Jongin lets him. Joonmyun clasps their palms together. “I understand, Jongin, okay? I do. I know we have to be careful.” His voice is barely above a murmur and he shifts closer, presses his forehead to Jongin’s so that his breath tickles over Jongin’s mouth. “But what we have now, this total avoidance, it’s killing me, and I don’t know how much more of it I can take. At least if I knew there was nothing to cling on for it might not hurt so much.” He buries his face in Jongin’s hair, breathes in the familiar smell of shampoo and sweat that he has come to uniquely associate with him, and says, “Either we find some kind of compromise where we can at least speak to each other, or, if we can’t do that, you; you need to decide whether you love the stage too much for this to ever work between us.”

Their hands fall apart as Jongin pulls away. “How can you even say that to me?” His voice is wounded, but Joonmyun knows it’s reached the stage where they have to make a decision. “I love you,” he finally mumbles. “I love you, but I’m scared. Fuck, Joonmyun.” He screws his eyes shut and clenches his fingers in Joonmyun’s shirt. “I need both. I need you.”

Joonmyun wishes that were enough. He wishes they could go back to a simpler time, when their hardships were mostly limited to picking sweet corn off their pizza and trying not to get come on Jongin’s childhood bed sheets. 

But then, Joonmyun reasons, their lives have never _been simple,_ not really. He has heard these words before, had them whispered feverishly into his skin as Jongin teetered on the edge of orgasm, but they have always turned out to be fragile and meaningless. Joonmyun needs more, this time, needs more to rely on than this. 

“Prove it.”

For a moment Jongin is silent, but then he’s sliding his hands up Joonmyun’s chest, curling them both around the back of his neck and pulling Joonmyun down into a messy kiss. 

“Prove what?” Jongin growls against his mouth. He slides his hands away from Joonmyun’s neck and works at the buttons of his shirt, popping them open and grazing the tips of his fingers over Joonmyun’s stomach. “Prove how much I need you?” Jongin’s mouth attaches itself to his neck, sucking just lightly enough that it doesn’t leave a mark. “Prove that I hate it when I can’t let you touch me?” Jongin gasps and Joonmyun feels his ribcage expanding against his chest. “That sometimes I _can’t_ speak to you, Joonmyun, because I don’t fucking trust myself not to tell the whole world how much I love you?” Jongin shudders and he pulls away, pushes angrily at Joonmyun’s chest. “Don’t you ever think that I stay away because I don’t care about us, because you fucking know that I do.”

Jongin scoots back on the sofa but Joonmyun follows, hemming him in against the arm before he can try to stand. He cups Jongin’s cheeks and the dark blush burns against his palms. “Jongin,” he whispers and his entire body is trembling as he presses himself flush up against Jongin, crawls into his lap. “Jongin.” Joonmyun takes Jongin’s shirt and lifts it up over his head, throws it onto the floor. Jongin gets the message and fumbles with the button on Joonmyun’s jeans. 

They quickly strip each other of their clothes and when Joonmyun leans back to breathe Jongin looks dishevelled, skin flushed with pink and hair sticking up wildly. Joonmyun brushes his fingers over Jongin’s collarbone. “I need you to fuck me,” he takes a deep breath. “Right here, on the couch. Please, Jongin.” Jongin’s breath catches, but he nods, Adam’s apple bobbing as he slides his hands down Joonmyun’s spine, settling heavily on the curve of his ass. He digs his fingers into the soft flesh, gritting his teeth when Joonmyun gasps softly, canting his hips forward. Their cocks brush with the movement and Jongin can’t hold back a whimper. Almost reverently he spreads his palms over Joonmyun’s ass, gripping and kneading his fingers until Joonmyun is almost sobbing with need. He squirms impatiently in Jongin’s lap.

“Get up a minute.” Jongin moves his hands to Joonmyun’s hips and he hefts the other man up until Joonmyun settles with his thighs quivering around Jongin’s waist. He pulls a packet of lube from the pocket of his discarded jeans and Joonmyun almost wants to laugh because Jongin is never unprepared. With one hand still gripping at Joonmyun’s hips, Jongin struggles to rip the packet open. 

Eventually cool liquid spills over his hand and onto Joonmyun’s skin and then he’s sliding two fingers hurriedly into Joonmyun. Joonmyun groans, grinding back, and then Jongin is adding another finger, crooking his fingers until they rub insistently at Joonmyun’s prostate. 

Joonmyun moves to curl shaking fingers around his own cock, but Jongin hisses at him and he drops his hand instead into to Jongin’s belly, tracing over muscle defined by a lifetime of dance. Jongin pulls his fingers away and Joonmyun sighs at the loss, but then Jongin is gripping tightly either side of his hips and pushing Joonmyun back until the head of his cock slips easily between Joonmyun’s cheeks. Joonmyun sinks down, drawing Jongin easily into his body until he’s fully seated on Jongin’s thighs. Jongin tips his head back, teeth digging into his full lower lip as he tries not to cry out. 

“How could you ever think that I could give you up? How could I?” Jongin’s voice is already wrecked. Joonmyun raises himself until Jongin’s cock is barely breaching him and then sinks back down agonisingly slowly. Jongin exhales, fingers digging deep purple welts into Joonmyun’s pelvis. 

They rock together desperately, Joonmyun panting helplessly into Jongin’s neck as he settles into a steady rhythm, hips slamming up into Joonmyun as his hands jerk Joonmyun down to meet them. The light from the TV still spills over them and Joonmyun skates the pads of his fingers over the dark circles that mar Jongin’s skin. 

They don’t last long. Jongin’s pace is punishing and they’re both so strung out that it is only a matter of minutes until Jongin is coming, hips jerking and spine arching as he falls over the edge. Joonmyun clamps tightly around him, milks every last drop of pleasure from Jongin’s body. It only takes the firm grip of Jongin’s hand around his cock and Joonmyun is coming too, eyes clenched shut as he spills over Jongin’s stomach. 

They’re quiet for a moment and the sudden silence is suffocating. Part of Joonmyun feels as though he’s waiting for Jongin to push him away. When the touch doesn’t come Joonmyun opens his eyes. Jongin is staring sorrowfully up at him. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice is hoarse. He soothes his hands over the bruises already forming under Joonmyun’s skin and eases Joonmyun gently off his cock. His thumb rubs gentle circles into Joonmyun’s skin when he hisses. “I’m sorry. I thought- I thought if I kept my distance, I’d be able to protect you, that nobody would guess and we’d be safe. But I- fuck, Joonmyun, I’ve treated you so badly. I’m so sorry.” Joonmyun says nothing and Jongin curls up against his side. There is come drying on Jongin’s stomach and it chafes Joonmyun’s skin. 

“I want to make this work,” Jongin whispers. He reaches for Joonmyun’s hand, tangles their fingers together. “We can find a way, can’t we?” Joonmyun smiles tiredly and presses a soft kiss to Jongin’s temple. They’ll find a way. 

 

 

Jongin always goes to the studio to dance, even when they have a long, late schedule. He dances until he can barely stand and drags himself home when the night begins to bleed into day and the stars are dying in the sky. Joonmyun waits for him and this is one tradition that they have not been able to let go of.

When Jongin stumbles wearily through the door, Joonmyun stands from the couch. A month ago, Jongin would have retreated to his room, but now he crumples into Joonmyun’s arms. He allows Joonmyun to massage his aching body, rub life back into abused muscles. They eat pizza with extra sweet corn at four am and fall asleep in each other’s arms on the sofa, when the weak dawn sun is just beginning to creep in through the curtains and the sound of birdsong stings their ears. 

Hours later, Joonmyun wakes beside Jongin for the first time in his life. If anyone notices the fact that Joonmyun is extra cheerful this morning, they don't mention it. And if anyone notices the shy smile that pulls at the edges of Jongin’s mouth when Joonmyun makes him coffee and toast for breakfast, they don’t say a thing.

Their hands brush under the table and Jongin ducks his head, but this time Joonmyun just smiles.


End file.
